“Belonging Brings Healing”
Luke 5:17-26
An excerpt from Dr. Vivek Murthy’s “My Parting Prescription for America”
Acts 2:44-47
We’ve been talking about belonging for a while now—what it is and why it’s important—because it manifests the truth that everyone and everything is holy and connected, and it protects us from the seriously destructive effects of separation and alienation.
We’ve been reflecting for a while now on who belongs (in a word: everyone), and to whom we belong (God, each other, all people and all creation).
We’ve discussed the truth that belonging is a gift—a reflection of God’s dream for the world, and something we are given in love and grace rather than something that has to be earned or deserved.
But what does belonging look like? How do we make it happen? And, for those of us already on the so-called inside, what’s in it for us? In other words, why should we make everyone’s belonging a priority?
And, especially given that the people who were telling us five years ago that all lives matter now are making it abundantly clear that only their lives matter to them, howdo we live into our shared calling to be instruments of holy belonging and inclusion? How do we continue to draw the circle ever wider? How do we become agents of the healing that belonging brings?
How do we catalyze all that we share in common—which yesterday manifested as massive demonstrations in towns and cities all over the country . . . How do we convert that powerful mix of anger, anxiety, compassion, commitment, passion, and creativity from fleeting gatherings to consistently engaged community? How do we sustain that sense of hope and power and build on it? What’s the difference between coming together en masse for one day and being there for each other day in and day out?
There is no one simple answer, of course. There is no one-size-fits-all strategy for righting wrongs, leveling playing fields, and healing generations of trauma. There is no sure-fire way to shrink the powerful differential between the people on the inside saying “Come on in!” and the people who have been excluded, oppressed, and persecuted for hundreds of years and may not trust the welcomers or feel safe, understood, or seen in a culture different from their own. There is no 12-step plan for helping privileged folks move from mere hospitality to, first, solidarity and, then, mutuality.
But there is this thing called love. There are these things called mercy and grace. There is God’s promise that they are doing a new thing within us, among us, and for us and for all. There is the transformative and healing power of the Holy Spirit. There is this man called Jesus, and there is his way of love. And central to that way is the concept of beloved community and belonging for all.
One of the many gifts of belonging, of being part of a community, is that it carries us to places we would not be able to reach on our own. In making our needs and concerns its own, community accomplishes things on our behalf that we could not accomplish ourselves. In sharing with us its love and resources, community brings healing and wholeness—not only to us but to everyone and all creation.
Now, I don’t know about you, but I realized this past week that whenever I heard or read the story of Jesus healing the paralyzed man who’d been let down through the roof—cot and all—I had always assumed that the men who had brought him to Jesus were his friends. But there’s nothing in the story to indicate that. There’s nothing in the story to indicate that the men who carried the man on his cot—first, to the house where Jesus was and, then, onto the roof, and then, figured out a way to lower him and the cot down to where Jesus was—knew him at all.
And so I want to suggest that one of the first ways we become agents of belonging and healing is simply noticing who is on the outside and who needs help. Then, if the situation requires more than we can do on our own, we can approach others and invite them to join with us in inviting the kind of belonging that brings justice and hope, in creating the kind of community that heals wounds and changes the world.
People from all over the region of the Galilee had begun hearing about Jesus of Nazareth. Poor people, desperate people, oppressed people, outsiders. While the religious authorities and legal experts followed Jesus around to assess his bona fides, most people flocked to Jesus because they were searching for something—hope, healing, wisdom, some sense that God was still with them through the indignities and suffering of the Roman occupation.
Imagine, if you will, that some of these folks had heard Jesus was in town, and they dropped everything to go see him. Imagine that while they were on the way, they came across the paralyzed man, lying on his cot, begging passers-by for spare change or a drink of water. First one person and then another stopped to acknowledge him. First one person and then another said, “Hey, would you like to go see this man Jesus? We hear he’s been healing people.”
The paralyzed man wants to see Jesus, but he can’t get there on his own. The first two passers-by realize they can’t carry him on their own, and so they flag down a couple more people. Soon enough, they’ve shared their names with the man and he’s told them his. Now it’s worth remembering here that back in Jesus’ time, folks believed that illness or infirmity was a sign of God’s judgment. But that didn’t stop these men from helping the paralyzed man.
Instead they carried him—cot and all—who knows how far. I’m sure they were relieved to have finally arrived at the place where Jesus was teaching, but then they discovered they couldn’t get inside. There was no room. Undaunted, they scoped out the situation and—somehow—managed to get the man and his cot up onto the roof. In Palestine in those days and until fairly recently, most houses had an opening in the roof for ventilation and access. And so the men removed the tiles and lowered their new friend down into the house where Jesus could see him.
Imagine Jesus looking up at the hole in the roof while those who had carried the man looked down.
When Jesus saw their faith—the faith of the folks who had carried the man—the story says, then he turned to the paralyzed man, first forgiving him and then healing and empowering him.
It was the faith and labor of a community that made possible the healing of an individual.
In the same way, when Jesus was faced with a hungry crowd of more than 5,000 people and nothing but five loaves and two fish, he ordered the people to sit down in smaller groups. Jesus knew that a crowd of 5,000 people is a collection of anonymous strangers, but that in groups of 40 or 50—where people could see one another and, perhaps, see the light of God in each other—community would be formed.
And so it was that everyone ate until they were full, and the disciples collected 12 baskets of leftovers. Because people in community share with one another. Because belonging brings healing and hope.
I can’t help but wonder how these stories speak to our current political, social, and moral moment. Who are the people in our midst who need some folks to carry them through hard times and toward healing? Who among our neighbors needs to be carried by communities of love and faith?
I think of our trans neighbors. I think of Mahmoud Khalil, Rumeysa Ozturk, and other university students here in our country legally who have been been deported or isolated in for-profit prisons simply because they spoke up for justice. I think of Kilmar Armando Abrego Garcia, disappeared to El Salvador because of a so-called administrative error. I think of Lucio and Dora and their family, still together in their home but so vulnerable to the tyranny of our government.
How can we carry them? How can we carry each other in these trying and truly frightening times? How can those of us who show up for rallies, demonstrations, and vigils actually connect with the people most impacted by the policies we’re protesting?
I thank God every day for the way members of this church carry one another through hard times. I see how you carry each other out of hopeless situations and into friendship and the possibility of community and healing—sometimes in very practical, hands-on ways, sometimes at great cost. You are doing God’s work.
We have developed relationships and systems of caring that our beautiful and broken world desperately needs. We have built circles of caring and belonging that many in our world have never seen or experienced.
I leave you with the words of Dr. Vivek Murthy, a former U.S. surgeon general:
What is our responsibility to one another? How do we create a culture that prioritizes community and the virtues it requires? . . . America and the world need a new generation of community builders. A generation defined not by age but by spirit—by a fierce, unyielding commitment to each other and a clear, full-hearted recognition that we are kin, not enemies and that we fundamentally need each other.. . We must be that generation. It is up to us to reject the pessimism and animosity of our time and instead choose courage and hope. The choice we make to build community has the power to change lives and transform society.
Beloveds, may we bethat generation. May we bethat healing change. May we be the church.
